


kiss

by sheithkeef



Series: firsts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9129901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheithkeef/pseuds/sheithkeef
Summary: or scott and stiles have that first kiss they've both been dreaming about.





	

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 of the 'firsts' series!

_[a kiss to seal the known.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfqa4z4vJ-w) _

Stiles rubs his hands on his black jeans again, breathing out shakily as he waits for Scott to arrive. He's not nervous; no way. He just couldn't decide on what shirt to wear, or whether he should've fixed his hair or not (speaking of which, he should have). It’s the first time he's seeing Scott since the day his boner got a little too close for comfort. It's not that they haven't been talking, it's just that they haven't been _alone_ since.

And Stiles wanted nothing more than to be alone with him. He sensed there was so much air to clear, so many things that he had to say but such little time to say them.

He snatches his chapstick from his dresser, which is a mess from multiple colored strings and markers. Sometimes he's too invested in their supernatural second lives but regardless, he can't help it. It's his passion.

After applying another layer of chapstick and making sure his lips are smoother than he will be tonight, he rushes to get rid of all his light bulbs. Claiming there’s a shortage of them in his house is his lame attempt to create the romantic mood he desperately needs. It's a full moon tonight, but Scott’s in full control of himself so he isn't worried about the light of the moon affecting them.

Stiles hears Scott’s car pull into the driveway and enters full anxiety mode. He quickly changes into _another_ t-shirt before finally feeling somewhat pleased with his outfit and dashing downstairs to where Scott is already knocking on the door.

He stops, taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly.

_It will be okay._

He opens the door hastily, stepping out so he can enter.

“Hey,” Stiles starts, giving him a curt nod. He shuts the door quickly, closing off the cold winter and leaving the warmth he feels in his chest and stomach inside.

“Hey Stiles,” Scott brings it up first, “it's been awhile since we’ve hung out like this.”

“Yeah, I think I can assume why,” Stiles chuckles but Scott shrugs in response.

“I’ve been busy, that's all. I’ve been trying to make time for you, but it seems the ‘beacon’ part of Beacon Hills never sleeps.”

“No, it's okay. It's not your fault or anything. Let’s just, go to my room.”

“Sure yeah.”

Scott follows a not so confident Stiles up to the room that both of them are so accustomed to. It just seems that now, with this romantic, this _sexual_ tension, it changes the entire atmosphere of something they once knew.

“No lights?”

“Th--there’s ah, no more bulbs.”

“Liar.”

Stiles groans, dropping on his knees before falling back on the ground. He had forgotten about the werewolf powers; again. It's typical; he forgets the important things when he’s nervous like this. Well, _if_ he was nervous.

“It's okay Stiles,” Scott laughs and sits on his bed, “it was a worthy attempt. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah yeah,” Stiles mutters, “let's just forget it.”

They both sit down on his bed, crossing their legs as they face each other. Normally they would have so much to talk about, being that they've been separated for such a long period of time. But considering the circumstances, both of them are afraid to say the one thing that will cause the bubble of tension to pop. Scott doesn't know that Stiles can see the sweat rolling down his forehead, and Stiles doesn't know that Scott can sense the overwhelming anxiety pulsing in his veins.

He (trying to draw his attention away from Scott, whose presence is leaving him breathless) is taking extreme interest in Scott’s hair at the moment, admiring how he decided not to put gel in and let it maintain it’s natural flow. He usually never leaves it ungelled and, he may be reading too far into this, but it feels like Scott did it purposely for him. Serving as some kind of metaphor for the night ahead; that he didn't need to put in more effort than needed…it would be just the two of them as it always was. A sly way to assure Stiles that nothing has really changed.

Unless he was trying to assure himself of that by reading as far into his hair-do.

“Stiles? Are you alright?”

“Wha--yeah yeah; why wouldn't I be?”

“You're staring at my head,” Scott laughs softly, “so like you, but so unlike you.”

“What? M-Maybe I just like your, luscious, hair.” Stiles reaches over and runs a hand through it, trying to play it off as a joke, “You know, all fluffy and…uh…”

Scott grins and Stiles purses his lips in the slightest annoyance. Sometimes he can't stand how stupid some of his own comments can be.

“I’ll stick with fluffy,” he shrugs before moving his hand hastily, “yeah just, fluffy.”

“Heh,” Scott reaches for the hand that was previously in his hair and weaves it with his own. He bites down on his lip and Stiles heart starts pounding faster with every second their skin makes contact.

His lips part as he stares down at their hands intertwined in a single movement, feeling the warmth from Scott’s hand radiating onto his own. He feels it _burning_ like the hole in his stomach that just keeps getting deeper.

For the first time Stiles can't bring himself to look Scott in his eyes. He’s genuinely afraid, secretly denying it and pushing it away with his sarcasm as his self-defense.

_He wasn't supposed to know. He was never supposed to know._

“Stiles…” Scott whispers, leaning in closer and suddenly scaring the absolute _shit_ out of Stiles.

“Scott…” Stiles turns away slightly, dipping his chin down and turning towards the window. Scott’s mouth falls slightly as he sees the moisture forming near Stiles’ eyes.

“You’re--”

“Please Scott; let a man cry when he’s down,” Stiles whispers hoarsely, attempting to swipe at the one fearful tear streaming down his pale cheek. Scott reaches up and catches it before it falls, wiping it away with his thumb as he cradled Stiles’ chin in his hand.

“You’re scared…you’re _really_ scared.”

“You weren't supposed to know…”

“Hey hey hey,” Scott rubs his jawline, trying to tilt his chin up to look into his eyes but Stiles pulls away.

“No, you weren't supposed to know about this Scott; it was too soon for me, for _you_. I don't want to push this onto you--”

“Stiles you’re not pushing _anything_ onto me, okay?” Scott tries to calm his best friend down before he slips into a panic attack, “Okay? Just listen to me Stiles _please_.”

“Scott I--”

“Shut up okay,” He pulls him down so they're both laying on his bed, both his arms firmly around Stiles. He thrashed every once in awhile, not wanting to be in the embrace of someone he knew wasn't going to feel the same; someone he knew was too risky to fall for. He _knows_ how he feels and how much he desperately wants this, but he also knows the risks of being involved with his best friend for _years_ and an alpha. The concept of them being together was doomed from the start. Even though he said it the very day he couldn't come to terms that Scott would _ever_ compare to the feelings he’d been harbouring for three years.

“Stiles you’re going to go into panic so _please_ stop fighting me and just rest with me!”

Stiles stops trying to pull away from Scott and goes numb. He rests his head against his chest, not wanting to make him more upset than he probably will be.

He feels Scott physically relax as they both lay down with each other, breathing heavily. Stiles’ head hurts and all he wants to do is sob until the nightmare he feels like he’s living is over and done with.

“Stiles, what’s going on?”

“Scott--”

“Please just tell me…”

“Scott…”

“Why are you so scared?” Scott whispers, rolling him off of his chest so he can face him, “it's just me Stiles. It's Scott. Scott, who you pushed off the slide on the playground in second grade. That same Scott that _forgave_ you even though he got his first concussion.”

“I-I don't know,” Stiles whispers.

“Then why can't you look me in the eyes.”

“Because your eyes, Scott? They're two different colors. And that _means_ something. There's too much going on for you to worry about me I don't want to add to everything that's going on. Yes, you're Scott McCall, a senior a Beacon Hills High. But you're also Scott McCall the _alpha_ of a _pack._ A _true_ alpha at that. There's too much Scott, and this concept in my head? This _idea_ that I could ever be with you was a fairy-tale from day one and I never wanted you to know because there's too much going on. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to burden you. I didn't want you to know I-I--”

It was definitely a lot for Scott to take in. He falls silent as Stiles stammers on beside him. Taking a shaky breath in and letting a shaky breath out, he attempts to console his best friend.

“I told you that I may feel the same way; that _same_ day I found out. There’s no reason for you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you Scott, why would I be afraid of _you_ ? I’ve seen on a full moon. I’ve seen the urge for carnage and homicide in your _eyes_ Scott. I mean--I’ve seen you try to kill me. Why would I be scared of you?”

“Then what are you scared of?”

“I’m scared of _losing_ you.”

“You're _never_ losing me. The fact that you even think that's a possibility makes me want to punch you in the face.”

“Please don't. Unlike some of our friends, I don't heal.” Stiles sniffles, a smile creeping on his face as Scott grins along with him. He closes his eyes, getting lost in the touch when Scott strokes his face with his thumb.

“And, just because we’re not living very normal lives, doesn't mean we can't try.”

“Are you sure?” He asks again, “Because Scott I _really_ don't want you to think about this too much.”

“I think I should be saying that to you Stiles.”

“Just tell me it's fine.”

“It's fine.”

Stiles sighs, leaning back in relief and reaching for Scott’s hand. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was doing it anyway and it was fine.

“Hey,” Scott whispers, pulling him closer by his limp arm, “come closer.”

His eyebrows raise in amusement as Scott’s hands move lower down his back until they rest right above his butt. Stiles lets out a small laugh and Scott rolls his eyes, nudging noses with him. He closes his eyes, biting his lip and waiting for what he knew was coming. Scott’s hands tighten against his skin as their lips meet in a painfully slow process. Daintily, Stiles presses his mouth against the other pair of lips awaiting his. Hands move from hips to face as the passion between them increases exponentially, eyes fluttering shut and Scott’s sense of control slowly slipping as he feels Stiles’ soft lips, as he tastes the affection slipping off of his tongue.

He’s the first one to pull away, despite the breathless exhilarating feeling he has afterwords. Stiles grins, covering his face with his hands merrily.

“That was nice,” Scott sighs, “ _really_ nice, but--”

“Your eyes?” Stiles points out that Scott’s soft chocolate brown eyes had been replaced with his chilling blood red alpha eyes.

“Yeah,” He replies, shaking his head, “do you have anything to cool myself off?”

“Sexually? Or--”

“Physically,” Scott smirks, “anything but sexually.”

“Oh,” Stiles smirks, playing along, “well there's one of those spray bottle thingies in my drawer if you wanna I dunno, spray your face?”

“Sure,” Scott opens each drawer, attempting to find what’s he's looking for until he stumbles upon something else that causes him to beam widely.

“What?”

“Nothing…” Scott laughs.

“Scott! What?!” Stiles sits up and he covers his mouth as he laughs harder.

“Scott, tell me!”

“I found the light bulbs.”


End file.
